After the Storm (3 page)

Maybe that made him old-fashioned or a prude. He didn’t really give a damn. His parents had brought him up to be respectful not only of others but most of all himself. If he couldn’t respect himself, how could he expect respect from others?

Fifteen minutes after he’d relocated down the street, he saw the kid Rusty had hired walk out of the hardware store. She was not wrong. This kid checked his surroundings. In fact, he brought more attention to himself because he was being so cautious. He walked slowly, his head turning side-to-side and then over his shoulder in a regular rotation.

He was a big kid. Tall and muscular, but thin. He had a look to him that told Donovan he was very likely malnourished. His face was thin and his expression was somber. He picked up speed at the end of the block as he crossed the street.

Damn it. If Rusty didn’t hurry her ass up, they were going to lose him.

Just when he’d decided to take off after the kid on his own, Rusty hurried out and ran toward his truck. She slid into the passenger seat and Donovan backed out.

“You’re right about him being wary,” Donovan muttered as he slowed to a discreet distance behind the kid. “He’s too obvious about it, though. If a cop sees him they’re going to pick up on the fact that it looks like he has something to hide.”

Rusty nodded and frowned. “Yeah, I know. But I can hardly tell him to act more casual, you know?”

“Yeah. I hear you.”

They drove slowly for several minutes and Donovan cursed.

“Hell, how far is this kid walking to work anyway?”

Rusty looked as unhappy as Donovan was.

“I don’t know, but it’s been what, a mile so far?”

“Almost two,” Donovan said grimly.

“He’s turning onto that gravel road ahead,” Rusty said, leaning forward in the seat. “I hope he hasn’t made us and is throwing us off.”

“We’ll drive by like we’re going ahead and then circle back,” Donovan said.

He accelerated and drove past the road the kid had turned onto. He glanced over to see the kid walking along the side, his back to the highway. Donovan went up a ways and then did a U-turn and drove back to the road.

“Damn it!” Rusty said when they took the turn. “I don’t see him now!”

Donovan accelerated down the road, dust kicking up behind them.

“Look! There he is!” Rusty said, pointing to the right.

Donovan continued past the run-down trailer and made another turn around to circle back. When they pulled into the driveway—if you could call the rut in the yard an actual driveway—Rusty tensed, her expression sorrowful as she took in the trailer the kid lived in.

He reached over to squeeze her hand.

“This was me when I was his age,” Rusty whispered. “God, it makes me sick to think of him living here with two sisters. It’s barely big enough for one person, let alone three.”

Donovan grimaced and nodded his agreement.

The yard was overgrown and badly in need of mowing. But that was the least of the issues. There was a blue tarp over one half of the roof of the trailer. There were missing shingles in other places. The skirting was missing. One window was busted out and there was a missing step leading up to the door.

It didn’t even look livable. The thing should have already been condemned.

He cut the engine and then looked over at Rusty.

“Remember what I said. You stay behind me until I’m certain this is safe. I’ll knock and see what happens. When and only when I tell you it’s okay, you can tell your story of shorting him money. I want to get inside so I can assess the situation myself.”

Rusty nodded. “Let’s go before they get spooked with us just parked out here like this. They’re probably scared to death, with the way the kid was acting.”

Donovan opened his door and got out. He wasn’t carrying a gun, which was unusual for him. But he hadn’t counted on needing one today. Now he wished he’d kept one in his truck at all times.

He motioned for Rusty to get behind him as they carefully mounted the rickety steps.

There was no screen door and when he knocked, the door shook as if just that little force could knock it over. Hell, it would be child’s play to break into this place.

He waited several long seconds before finally the door cracked the barest inch and he found himself staring into the most startling golden-colored eyes.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

He was momentarily speechless. Rusty had mentioned sisters. But this was an adult woman. Not that old. Early twenties was his guess.

But what gutted him was that reflected in those beautiful eyes washed with glints of amber and gold was stark fear.

CHAPTER 4

“MY
name is Donovan Kelly, ma’am,” Donovan hurried to say, wanting to alleviate the terror in her eyes. Her fear had put knots in his stomach and it was all he could do not to charge in, take control and demand to know what the hell was scaring the holy crap out of her.

He restrained himself—barely. But his radar was beeping like an incessant alarm.

Was she in an abusive relationship? But no, Rusty had said the kid said he only lived with his sisters. Was this woman abusing the kid? His stomach knotted all over again. No, that couldn’t be the case. The fear in her eyes wasn’t of discovery—of her abuse of others. There was something far darker than that, something his eye was trained to catch from the many years he’d saved just such women from horrific situations.

“What do you want?” she asked in a voice too soft to be called blunt. Her words wavered, like she was barely hanging on to the urge to turn and flee. Her hand gripped the dilapidated door frame until the tips of her fingers and her knuckles were stretched thin and bloodless.

He swallowed because what the hell was he supposed to say to that? That he wanted to know what the fuck had scared her? What she was hiding from? That he only wanted to help?

Rusty saved him from his grappling decision by pushing forward, inserting herself in front of Donovan—exactly what he’d told her
not
to do.

“We’re really sorry to barge in on you,” Rusty said, keeping her voice soft and unthreatening. “But I shorted Travis when I paid him for today’s work. I felt horrible when I realized it. He’s a hard worker and he’s been such a blessing to have in the store. I brought the money so he’d have it.”

There was a hint of relief that briefly shadowed the young woman’s eyes before apprehension crept back in. Almost as if she had reminded herself not to take anything at face value. Those lessons were ones learned the hard way, and Donovan was convinced this was indeed a woman who’d learned hard and fast that the world was not a good place.

And then Travis appeared at the door, all but shoving the woman behind him as he faced Rusty and Donovan. He sent Donovan a wary look but quickly shifted his focus to Rusty, as if he wanted to hurry and get the entire thing over with so he and his sister could retreat behind closed doors.

But Rusty wasn’t going to be put off. Donovan had to hand it to her. She was ferocious when she set her mind to something.

“Can we come in?” Rusty asked. “We won’t take but a minute. In addition to the money I owe you, I realized we hadn’t discussed your work schedule beyond this weekend, and I would like to have you come in a few hours each day if you’re interested. If we could come in and talk a few minutes, then we can get it all worked out and we’ll be out of your hair.”

She smiled as she said it, even nearly fooling Donovan with the innocence of her request.

Travis gave a panicked, deer-in-the-headlights look as he glanced over his shoulder and then back to Rusty and finally letting his gaze flicker warily over Donovan.

Rusty edged forward, even as the kid was obviously racked with indecision, like she was confident that her normal request would be granted. She was already on her way in before Donovan could make a grab for her. Damn it, they had no idea what was inside this house or why the occupants were scared out of their minds. He didn’t want Rusty—or himself—to be caught in the middle of a dangerous situation.

Travis stepped back and sent a look of apology toward the inside. To his sister? Someone else?

But Donovan didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. He pressed forward, keeping close on Rusty’s heels in case he needed to shove her down quickly and cover her.

The very first thing he saw was a very young child—a girl—huddled on a tattered couch riddled with holes, a takeout box from the sandwich shop down the street from the hardware store perched on her lap.

Her mouth was smeared with ketchup and mayonnaise and her hands full of the burger Travis must have brought home. The one Rusty had bought for him and had told Donovan that he hadn’t wanted her to know he hadn’t eaten. Now they both knew why. He had brought it home to his sister—just a baby—because she was likely starving.

Donovan was gripped by rage as his gaze swept over the living room—if you could call it that. They were living in absolute squalor. It wasn’t that the interior was messy or unkempt, as if they were slobs who discarded trash or food on the floor. In fact, what was there was neat and well ordered. But the condition of the trailer was deplorable.

In at least four places on the floor that he could see sat plastic bowls, presumably to catch leaks from the sagging ceiling. It had rained two nights earlier. He flinched to imagine them living here. No protection from the elements.

It was also then that he realized how warm the interior was. Hot, muggy. No air conditioning. The windows, such as they were, the ones not already broken out, were cracked to allow air to flow inside.

It took every bit of his control and training to keep his expression impassive and not to let free the full force of his reaction to what stared him in the face.

“Is there a problem . . . ,” the older sister began, her voice soft but laced with fear and hesitancy.

The minute Rusty had barged into the house, Donovan behind her, Travis’s older sister had immediately flown to the couch, placing herself between the young girl—she couldn’t be more than three or four—and Rusty and Donovan.

Though she tried to look calm and poised, it was obvious she was prepared to fight or flee at a moment’s notice. As if she’d had plenty of experience in . . . both.

“No problem at all,” Rusty said cheerfully. “As I said to Travis, I wanted to pay him the cash I accidentally shorted him for the hours he worked today, but I also wanted to check with him so we could work out times for him to come in and work this next week. That is, if he’s willing.”

Travis and his sister exchanged quick, worried glances.

Donovan cleared his throat, determined to add his own two cents.

“Perhaps it would be best if you introduce yourself—and me—so she knows who her brother is working for,” Donovan suggested pointedly.

Rusty’s hand fluttered. “Oh, of course. How rude of me!” She strode over to where Travis’s sister sat and thrust out her hand. “I’m Rusty Kelly.”

The woman tentatively took Rusty’s hand but remained silent. Donovan’s gaze narrowed.

Rusty turned in Donovan’s direction. “That’s my older brother, Donovan Kelly. Well, one of them,” she added with a grin. “There’s a lot of us Kellys! Six older brothers, if you can believe it. Not to mention all the other unofficial family members Mama Kelly has adopted over the years.”

Donovan didn’t blame the woman’s look of utter bewilderment. He drew up short of shaking his own head at Rusty’s exuberance. She was overdoing it just a little in the let’s-get-nice-and-friendly effort. And it wasn’t working to relax any of the occupants of the room. If anything, they looked even more ill at ease.

The child clutched at her older sister’s hand and edged more firmly behind her, her eyes wide as she swiped at her mouth with the back of her other hand.

“Who are they, Evie?” she whispered. “What do they want?”

Evie. Well at least they were getting somewhere.

Donovan took a step forward, risking that “Evie” wouldn’t tuck tail and run, the child hauled over her shoulder. He extended his own hand but wasn’t as forceful as Rusty had been. He simply held it out and waited for her to take it. If she would.

“Glad to meet you, Evie,” he said gently.

After a long moment, she slid slender fingers over his palm, and an electric sensation snaked up his arm and into his shoulder. Her touch was a shock, one he hadn’t expected. Neither had she, judging by the way she quickly yanked her hand back, looking up at him with even more confusion clouding those liquid amber eyes.

The woman was beautiful. Scared. Haunted. Shadows hung from her like picture frames. But she was stunning. She was too thin. It was obvious they were struggling to even survive, and yet her fragility only made her more beautiful. He was mesmerized by those eyes. Could simply stand there and stare into them, picking out all the different flecks of gold and chestnut.

“It’s Eve,” she said huskily. “My name, that is. Cammie and Trav call me Evie. It’s their pet name.”

Donovan knelt on the threadbare carpet in front of the couch and smiled warmly at the child. “You must be Cammie. Pretty name for a very pretty young lady.”

She looked confused and huddled more fiercely behind Eve’s back. Eve reached over her shoulder to snag Cammie’s hand that had crept up toward Eve’s neck.

“It’s all right, Cammie,” she whispered. “He won’t hurt you.”

Even as she issued the promise, she turned hastily, staring pleadingly into Donovan’s eyes as if begging him not to make a liar out of her. Goddamn, but it sickened him that these two females—and their brother—had been conditioned to expect harm from others. And not just others, but particularly men.

Cammie had been nervous, yes, when Rusty had moved in her direction. But when Donovan had approached, the child had panicked and damn near climbed up her sister’s back.

He wanted to demand to know who the hell had hurt them, who had taught them pain and fear and who the hell they were running from. Then he wanted to take apart the son of a bitch with his own hands, and the very next thing he wanted was to ensure that nothing would ever harm this ragtag family again.

How crazy was that?

Five minutes in their presence, and he was ready to rush in, take over their lives and make them promises he had no business making. And no guarantee that he could even keep them since he didn’t have a fucking clue what they were up against.

“No, sweetheart,” Donovan said gently, it taking absolute concentration not to give in to the fiery rage brewing inside him. “I will never hurt you. Never. You can take that to the bank. I’d like to help you. Your brother and your sister. I’d like to be your friend.”

Both Cammie’s and Eve’s eyes went wide. Cammie looked uncertain, while Eve froze. Not a single tremor went through her body. It was as if she’d turned to ice. He could feel her staring at him, staring holes through him as if trying to figure out who and what he was. If he was a threat. If he was telling the truth.

Goddamn it, but he’d never felt so damn helpless in his life. He was a man of action. He wasn’t one to fuck around and play games. He never hesitated when it came to someone needing help. And yet he knew he couldn’t do that here. This was a delicate situation that he had to tiptoe through as though walking through a minefield. One that could blow up in his face at any moment.

“We don’t have any friends,” Cammie mumbled. “Evie says it’s not safe.”

“Cammie, shhh,” Eve said, turning swiftly to silence the child. She turned back to Donovan, a weak smile wavering on her face. “Cammie has a very active imagination. Most four-year-olds do, you know.”

She was nearly the same age as his niece, Charlotte. Charlotte, who was surrounded by a huge, loving family. Charlotte, who never had to worry where her next meal came from. Or if it would come. Charlotte, who had doting uncles and aunts. Grandparents to spoil her rotten. And an entire organization of badass military operatives who’d start a fucking war to protect her.

This child was the complete antithesis of his niece and her life, and it broke Donovan’s heart.

Rusty cleared her throat and inserted herself to alleviate the sudden awkwardness wrought by Cammie’s confession.

“As I was saying, Travis—and Eve—I can work Travis in a few hours every day this week, and of course he’s welcome to come in next weekend as well. I’m absolutely flexible, so whatever works for you is fine with me.”

Unease crossed Eve’s face, and then she glanced down, shame and embarrassment flashing in her eyes before they were hidden from view.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “But I don’t intend for him to have to work long. Just until Cammie is better and I can leave her. I don’t know if things will work out here, so I’d hate for you to depend on Travis when we only plan for him to have a temporary job.”

“And why wouldn’t they work out?” Donovan prompted carefully.

Her eyes became shuttered, the golden flecks dimming as her expression became indecipherable. She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “There are no guarantees. Ever. It may or may not work out that we can stay here. I have to prepare for reality.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Donovan challenged. “What then?”

“We move on,” she said simply.

She said it so matter-of-factly that Donovan knew this wasn’t new to them. He had no idea for how long they’d been running or how far. But relocating on short notice—and often—was not foreign to them at all.

He thought a whole host of crazy things. Things that would have his brothers thinking he’d lost his goddamn mind. Maybe he had. He had to get a grip. Take a step back, take a deep breath and gain some perspective before he did something really crazy like haul every one of them out of this dump and move them into his brand-new, very empty house, which had finished construction mere weeks before.

It was a house built with a large family in mind. The family he knew one day he wanted to be his. Though he had no immediate plans. No specific woman in mind. No one waiting in the wings. No one he was even considering. He hadn’t allowed anyone that close.

But it didn’t mean he didn’t know what he wanted. Someday. He’d always known. A wife. Children. A house full of children. Noisy, rambunctious. Much like his own upbringing in a house full of brothers, two older and three younger.

He wanted that life for himself. Wanted to carry his childhood into his adult life. Provide that warm, stable, loving home for his own children that Frank and Marlene Kelly had provided him and his brothers. He wanted nothing more than to come home to his own wife after being away on a mission. To be welcomed back with a sweet, loving smile. To be surrounded by his children. His kids. A part of himself. His blood.

But for now the house stood alone. A symbol of his hopes for his future. Apart from the other houses his brothers lived in at the Kelly compound surrounded by a tight security field. A reality of their lives and the career choices they’d made.